


to you i will always return

by chocobos



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Office, Anxiety, M/M, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-02 23:24:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10230254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocobos/pseuds/chocobos
Summary: “Uh,” Yuuri starts, throat suddenly dry. He has to clear it four times before he’s actually able to speak. “Not to step out of line, but, uh. Because I accidentally sent you a dick pic last night, right?”Saying the words are so hard Yuuri chokes on the end of his sentence.Viktor hums in agreement. “Yes, exac -- wait, accidentally?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> wow, i can't believe i managed to write this so fast!! 
> 
> anyway, this was practically written all in one sitting, is unbeta'd (though looked over by me) and is just a huge big pile of fluff, which tends to fit most of my writing.
> 
> this is for maja, who inspired this by reblogging [this](https://68.media.tumblr.com/5ab2f6ecd51b74f3b73bcf91612c6afb/tumblr_omcwikWPy51sha4bfo1_540.jpg) image. 
> 
> *** obviously this references a possible relationship between a boss and one of their employees. while technically yuuri's direct superior isn't viktor (there's a very long line of bosses before viktor) i figure i'd warn for it anyway!

Yuuri’s heart drops to his toes the moment he sees he has a message on the company’s private server.

His life downright _flashes_  before his eyes when he reads that it’s from the head of the company, Viktor Nikiforov.

< **v-nikiforov** >  
_Good morning, Yuuri!_

He wonders if he could get away with not responding. Probably not. Yuuri doesn’t know much about Viktor -- not for lack of trying; quietly, of course -- but he can’t imagine the other man being thrilled of an employee who can’t even answer a simple message from their boss.

Yuuri will have to get over it.

He can do this.

< **katsukiyuuri** >  
_Good morning, sir._

< **v-nikiforov** >  
_Please, call me Viktor, Yuuri._

< **v-nikiforov** >  
_Also, I have some things I would like to discuss with you. Do you have time to come to my office today?_

He blinks, heart pounding in his chest.

Just because he didn’t know much about the man didn’t mean Yuuri didn’t have a big stupid crush on him. He knew it was pointless. Finding your boss attractive is one thing, falling head over heels in love with him is an entirely different matter.

Yuuri should have known better. But Yuuri has always been weak for pretty things.

Mr. Nikiforov is easily the most attractive person he’s seen.

< **katsukiyuuri** >  
_Ah, uh. No, I’m free._

< **v-nikiforov** >  
_Wonderful! Could you be in my office in forty-five minutes?_

< **katsukiyuuri** >  
Yes, I’ll be there.

Once he’s certain Viktor isn’t going to send him any more messages, he buries his head into the crease of his elbow and contemplates what he’s done to deserve this. He meticulously picks apart the last three weeks at work, going over every last mistake and missed deadline.

Maybe Yuuri stress repressed accidentally costing the company millions of dollars. Maybe Viktor’s going to fire him personally.

Viktor doesn’t normally handle the hiring and firing of employees, but Yuuri wouldn’t put it past himself to screw up enough to catch The Big Boss’s attention.

That would be his luck.

“Yuuri,” says a voice from above, “Buddy. You okay?”

He groans in response.

“I’ll take that as a resounding ‘no’ then. Talk to me.”

Yuuri peers up at Phichit with blurry vision. It takes him a moment to realize in his panicked haze he knocked his glasses off his face. He grabs them from where they've clattered on his desk, putting them back on. His best friend comes into focus, then, and he looks worried. 

His chest pangs with guilt. He's worried Phichit  _again_.

He finds that he does need to tell someone about it, but it takes a few minutes for the words to come out, and when they do they’re hushed, whispered,

“I got an IM today from Viktor Nikiforov.”

Phichit’s eyes grow wide. “ _What?!_ ”

“Yeah,” Yuuri bites his lip. “He wants to see me in forty-five minutes to talk about something. Oh god, he’s going to fire me. Do you think he’s going to fire me?”

“Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri. Deep breaths, okay? C’mon,” his best friend encourages.

Yuuri takes a much needed deep breath, but it doesn’t feel particularly calming.  “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Phichit reminds him, like he always does after Yuuri's anxiety grips him too hard.

“Can’t help it.”

“I know you can’t. But try not to worry about your meeting, okay? Viktor never personally fires people. Maybe he wants to talk about your newest portfolio submission!”

“Don’t be insulting, Phichit. He’d never notice me for that,” Yuuri scoffs.

“Your work is amazing, Yuuri. You wouldn’t be working here otherwise,” Phichit says.

“I guess,” Yuuri concedes, albeit a bit unwillingly.

“That’s my boy!” Phichit croons. “Maybe Viktor wants your hot bod.”

“That’s even more far fetched than him admiring my work,” he laughs, even though it hurts.

No one ever finds _Yuuri_  attractive.

Certainly not stupidly handsome men who have a multi-billion dollar company to run.

  
  


\---

  
  


 

As it turns out?

Phichit is right.

(He gets bragging rights for a full month, afterwards.)

 

 

 

\---

  
  
  


When Yuuri manages to calm himself down, hardly twenty minutes have passed.

Yuuri knows he’ll regret it later when he has to make up the time, but he can’t quite get himself to focus on any of his current illustration files, so he opens his phone instead. He sees he has a couple messages waiting for him. He hasn't had the time to check them, since he practically had to rush out of his apartment this morning. 

He even forgot to grab breakfast.

Yuuri never forgets to grab breakfast.

He thumbs through his text messages, and he feels slightly worse at the fact that he hasn’t replied to any of them. Oops.

From:  **Phichit**  -  7:23:22 A.M _.  
What did you drink last night?? Lol, and can I have whatever’s left? _

Yuuri winces.

Right. He drank last night. A lot. More than he should've, that's for sure.

He doesn’t remember why he was drinking last night, but he was feeling stressed and anxious. Yuuri went looking for something sweet and instead found an almost full bottle of Bacardi someone left over here from the last time Phichit strong-armed him into hosting a party. It takes him exactly two and a half minutes of debating with himself internally for him to grab one of the shot glasses in the back of his cupboard. 

Everything's a bit of a blur after the fifth shot he messily knocked back, and he can only hope he didn't send anything to embarrassing to his friends. 

Yuuri doesn’t bother replying to Phichit now, it’s too embarrassing to stare at any longer. He carefully scrolls through Phichit’s messages.

Lots of incoherent rambling on Yuuri’s part, along with a healthy amount of helpless pining over Viktor and careful documentation of his drunken food escapades. It’s nothing his best friend hasn’t seen before, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

He thumbs to the next message, and sees it’s from Minami asking if he had a link to the reference website Yuuri was talking about on his lunch break yesterday. Yuuri makes a mental note to grab the link for him when he gets home.

The third and final message, Yuuri has to read a few times, because he isn’t quite sure it’s real:

From:  **Me -**   2:56:40 A.M  
hpe u liked youre presnt ; ))

_Oh god_.

What did Yuuri do?

He cautiously scrolls up, going as far as to cover his eyes; it somehow makes the experience less daunting. He feels off-balanced and the steady undercurrent of anxiety that’s been running through him all day dramatically spikes.

When Yuuri sees _it,_ he takes in a startled breath that hurts his lungs and blacks out.

  


\---

  


When he comes to several moments later, he finds his phone is, miraculously, still lit up, as if it’s taunting him. He catches the name at the top of the screen for the first time, and faints again.

At the top of his phone screen, is ‘ _Viktor_ ’ with a disturbing amount of heart emojis and kissy faces.

  
  


\---

  
  


Yuuri decides not to think about it after he wakes up again.

He believes now even more than before that he’s about to get fired. The reason why Viktor’s making it personal is because Yuuri did it first.

And the thing is, Yuuri doesn’t even _blame_ Viktor for firing him.

He really doesn’t.

(Yuuri wants to fire himself, if he’s being honest.)

  
  


\---

  
  


Yuuri leaves his desk five minutes early.

Even if this is his (metaphorical) execution, he refuses to be late for it.

He passes by Phichit’s desk on his way to the elevator, who gives him two thumbs up.

“Go get ‘em tiger!” He cheers.

Yuuri’s cheeks are terribly red. He’s never wanted to kill his best friend more, but at least now he isn’t thinking about the fact that there’s a very real chance Viktor’s about to slap him with a sexual harassment suit.

He’ll be incredibly lucky if he doesn’t walk out with at least a restraining order of some sort, he thinks.

The elevator is blessedly empty, and he takes the extra moments alone to try and gather his thoughts. He doesn't want to make this anymore horrifying than it has to be. Yuuri will walk in there, and he will not cry, and he will apologize thoroughly to Viktor until his face turns blue.

Yes, that sounds like a good plan.

A foolproof plan.

Viktor’s office is on the thirty-eighth floor, which is _ridiculous_. The thirty-eighth floor is entirely made up of Viktor's office and the small common space area where his personal secretary, Sara, operates. 

Sara greets him with a smile like they’re old friends.

“Yuuri, hello! How are you today?”

Yuuri looks at her in surprise. He doesn’t think they’ve ever spoken.

“I’m… okay. How are you?”

“Great. Viktor’s waiting for you whenever you’re ready to head in there,” she says with a wink.

He feels very much like she’s throwing him to the sharks, but luckily he manages to keep that thought to himself.

“Thank you,” he squeaks.

Yuuri allows himself to take a few calming breaths, and then he's quickly opens the door. He’s less likely to run away if he’s facing Viktor up close and personal.

Well, theoretically, at least. Yuuri’s seen him face to face a few times, and most of them were at company parties where attendance was encouraged but not required. Yuuri never got close enough to talk to him beyond pleasantries (it’s a favor he thanks the universe for daily; Yuuri’s a complete mess of a person, obviously. The farther he stays away from Viktor, the better) but Viktor turns heads no matter what room he’s in.

Yuuri’s been in Viktor’s office even less. The only other time he can think of is during the tour they give the new-hires that’s more to waste time than anything.

When he walks into Viktor’s office this time, however, Viktor’s waiting for him at his desk. There seems to be a bottle of some expensive looking moscato on the surface. Yuuri wonders if he recently got back from a meeting or something.

“Ah, Yuuri! There you are~” Viktor greets, oddly chipper from someone who is about to fire him.

This is a good sign. This might mean the chances of Viktor ruining Yuuri’s career are low.

“Hi, Mr. Niki -- Viktor,” Yuuri corrects himself, hastily.

“No need to be so formal, Yuuri,” Viktor tells him, eyeing him oddly. “Are you alright?”

Almost like a mouse playing with it’s food, Yuuri muses.

“I’m okay,” Yuuri lies.

“Fantastic,” Viktor sounds no less enthusiastic than he did thirty seconds ago. Yuuri feels suddenly, _painfully_ out of his depth. “Tell me, Yuuri, do you like working here?”

Yuuri blinks.

“Of course I like working here. Who wouldn’t?”

Viktor laughs. It’s not the laugh of someone who is seething in quiet rage.

Yuuri’s thrown through a loop.

What exactly is going on here?

“Hmm. Good answer. Another question, then. Do you know why I called you in here?” Viktor asks, reaching forward to take the bottle of wine on the desk. Yuuri notices it’s already open, and the other man starts to pour it into the two glasses in front of him.

“Uh,” Yuuri starts, throat suddenly dry. He has to clear it four times before he’s actually able to speak. “Not to step out of line, but, uh. Because I accidentally sent you a dick pic last night, right?”

Saying the words are so hard Yuuri chokes on the end of his sentence.

Viktor hums in agreement. “Yes, exac -- wait, accidentally?”

He's so shocked he stops pouring the wine.

Yuuri’s disappointed; alcohol is probably the only thing that is going to get him through this conversation alive.

“I’m really, _really_ sorry,” he apologizes in a rush, “I understand if you want to terminate my position with the company--”

“Slow down, Yuuri,” Viktor says, gentle. “I’m not going to fire you.”

“You’re not?” he asks, eyes wide.

“It seems that we’re not on the same page,” Viktor says, ominous.

Yuuri’s breath stutters.

“So you _are_ firing me, then?”

Viktor chuckles. “Cute and oblivious, huh?”

“C-cute? You think I’m cute?”

“I think you’re very cute,” Viktor tells him. “Though it isn’t exactly appropriate for me to say that to my employee.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says, lamely.

What does he say to that?

Viktor’s answering grin turns wicked,

“Good thing I’ve never been all that great at following the rules.”

Yuuri squeaks, feeling his cheeks and ears flush so hot he’s surprised they don’t melt right off of him. Of all of the possible outcomes of this conversation, he never once pictured it going like this. He never for a second thought Viktor would react _positively_ to Yuuri’s absolutely awful decision making skills.

He furrows his brows, gathering the courage to quietly ask, “I don’t think we’re on the same page, still.”

The look Viktor levels him with is equal parts fond and pretty. Yuuri’s never had someone look at him like this, and he can feel his heart beat an unfamiliar rhythm in his chest.

“Can I ask you something, Yuuri?”

“S-Sure.”

“What do you remember from last year’s Christmas party?”

Ah.

It's possibly the worst question that Viktor could’ve asked, because, honestly? He really doesn’t remember _anything_ about it. He knows that he went after some extreme prodding and poking from Phichit (he had gotten a phone call earlier that day from his sister telling him that their childhood dog had passed away in his sleep and he hadn’t been out to visit him since he moved to the states), so he was more than a little sad.  He also vaguely recalls getting well-acquainted with the drinking station.

The last thing he truly remembers is throwing back jello shots.

Then it dawns on him why Viktor might be asking, and the hot and overwhelming rush of mortification is settling down on him, almost suffocating.

“Did -- did I do something inappropriate?”

As if there's anything more inappropriate than sending your boss a dick pic. 

Viktor’s eyes flash in disappointment for a brief second, but then his face settles into a smile that is no less genuine

“You _don’t_ remember, then. I figured, though it’s no less disappointing.”

“Oh, god. I did something embarrassing didn’t I?” Yuuri whispers.

Viktor reaches across the desk to settle his hand over Yuuri’s own. “You showed me the best night of my life, Yuuri.”

Viktor --- Viktor sounds _genuine_.

It’s baffling. Yuuri’s so shocked he doesn’t move his hand away from Viktor’s own, which the other man takes as permission to lace their fingers together.

“I -- you? Me?” Yuuri stutters. “Did we sleep together?”

He vigorously shakes his head. “No, no, nothing like that. We only danced and talked a little bit. Though now that I think about it, you being plastered would explain why you were so hard to understand,” Viktor chuckles.

“Oh, no,” Yuuri whines.

“It was quite alluring,” Viktor purrs. “You’re very interesting, Katsuki Yuuri. An enigma, of sorts.”

It’s Yuuri’s turn to laugh at that, too loud and incredulous. It seems to light a fire between them, though, if the look in Viktor’s eyes is anything to go by.

“Are you sure you don’t have me confused with someone else? I’m the most boring person in the world.”

“False,” Viktor counters easily, with a shrug. “No one who can move their body like you can is a boring person, Yuuri.”

“What kind of dancing did we do exactly?”

Yuuri's sure he doesn't want to know, but he can't seem to control his mouth.

“Oh, you were adamant on showing me your entire palette,” Viktor recalls, enamored. “From ballet, to waltz, and tango. Let us not forget the pole dancing, either.”

Yuuri lets go of Viktor’s hand to bury his face in his own. Perhaps if he sits here for too long, either the ground will swallow him whole or Viktor will take pity on him and leave him alone so he can die in peace. This is why he doesn’t drink that often. He tends to let loose (a little too much, if you ask Yuuri; not nearly enough, if you ask Phichit) and his carefully constructed walls come crashing down around him.

“I showed you that?” Yuuri asks, voice muffled by his hands. “I’m going to die.”

There’s the smooth, comforting sound of Viktor’s laughter, and then there are warm, calloused hands wrapping around his wrists, pulling them away from his face tenderly. 

“You’re so cute. I can’t stand it, Yuuri. I’ve been thinking about you all of the time since that party.”

Yuuri feels _sick_ almost. He had, what sounds like, the best night of his life with Viktor and he doesn’t even remember it. That’s just his luck. The universe and all of it’s deities are laughing at him right now.

“I’m so sorry, Viktor,” Yuuri apologizes, mouth tasting like ash. “I don’t remember anything. I -- I wish I did.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Yuuri. At first I thought you were playing hard to get, and then after months went by and I heard nothing from you… I figured you either didn’t remember or you weren’t interested anymore.”

The latter couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Really?” Yuuri asks, not totally believing what he’s hearing.

“Really,” Viktor says, smiling at him. It’s warm, and gentle, and feels almost like a caress. Which is probably weird. Smiles shouldn’t feel like caresses, should they? “When I got that picture last night -- I thought…”

Yuuri’s horror-stricken.

“You thought I was making a move,” Yuuri finishes for him.

“Yes,” the other man admits, plainly.

“Oh.”

“The dick pic really was an accident, then?”

Yuuri blushes anew, no doubt bright scarlet and looking too close to a lobster for comfort.

“It was,” Yuuri says.

“That’s a shame,” Viktor says, this time his disappointment is clear and he isn’t trying to hide it. “Would you go out on a date with me, anyway?”

Yuuri’s struck speechless. Viktor still wants to go out on a date with him, even after he’s admitted to being a walking human disaster.

He has worse taste than anyone gives him credit for.

“You still want to?”

“Of course I do, Yuuri~” Viktor coos.

“I -- It’s inappropriate,” Yuuri tries, though his voice is weak to his own ears.

“It’s something we’ll have to discuss,” he starts, fingers rubbing along the tops of Yuuri’s hands. “But I’ve liked you for a long time. I don’t want to give this up. Not unless you want to.”

Yuuri’s had a crush on Viktor since his first day on the job, and with each day it’s unfortunately gotten stronger. Phichit makes fun of him every time Viktor sends out an email to all of his employees thanking them for their hard work, since it sends him into a validation-ridden haze every time. And Viktor’s been essentially showering him with praise since he walked through the door.

It hasn’t really sunk in, yet.

Yuuri should say no. As much as he wants to say yes, and go out on dates with Viktor, and possibly kiss Viktor, and cuddle him, he knows this isn’t a good idea. He should end this before it really has the chance to develop further.

Yuuri knows this. He does.

He also knows that there’s solely one thing he can say, and it definitely isn’t no.

“Alright,” Yuuri says. “I’ll go on a date with you, Viktor.”

Viktor’s smile -- no, _beam_  -- is stunning, taking over his entire face,  eyes light with life and kindled flames. There’s something to be said about how he looks right now, like he’s never known happiness like this.

Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat at the thought. He’s the one who made Viktor look like that.

“You just made me the happiest man alive,” Viktor tells him, earnest.

“And the cheesiest,” Yuuri quips, before he can stop himself.

Viktor chuckles, and bring their clasped hands up to his lips so he can press kisses along his knuckles.

“Oh, myshka, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

Yuuri feels a rush of excitement at his words, and if it’s tainted with a healthy dose of anxiety, well, no one has to know.

That, at least, he can keep a secret.

 

  
  
  
\---

**Author's Note:**

> i kind of want to write another piece in this universe, though i feel like writing their date might be kind of redundant at this point so i was thinking maybe the night of the christmas party? that could be kind of fun? 
> 
> anyway, please let me know what you think! i hope you enjoy this!
> 
> feel free to check me out on [twitter](http://www.saintvitya.tumblr.com/>tumblr</a>%20or%20<a%20href=) or both!


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